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B I A N G A. 



A FRAGMENT. 



- Crudelis ubique 



Luctus, ubique pavor, et plurima mortis imago. 

Virgil. 

Quis furor, O Cives ! quae tanta licentia ferri. 

Lucan. 



JOHN WILKS, Jun. 



LONDON: 
PRINTED BY R. CLAY, DEVONSHIRE STREET. 

1823. 



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205449 
'13 



MRS. I. P. ROBERTS. 



My Dear Cousin, 

In dedicating to you this little 
production of hours rescued occa- 
sionally from my professional pursuits, 
I fondly anticipate that you will 
accppt it as an indication of my 



VI DEDICATION. 

sincere esteem, and of my respect 
for your talents, and admiration of 
your virtues. 

Beneath your hospitable roof, and 
seated under the shade of those elms 
which add so much beauty to the ex- 
ternal appearance of your interesting 
dwelling, I have enjoyed some hours, 
which, in the bright recollection of 
the past, I shall ever regard as among 
the most pleasing of my life. To 
you, therefore, as a friend — a relative 
— and a woman — of taste most re- 
fined, heart most affectionate, and 
mind well informed — I present this 
little offering. 



DEDICATION. vii 

It was written after perusing some 
memorials of the success of our country 
in the late continental struggle, and 
after conversing with an intelligent 
soldier, who served in the campaign. 
It was intended to delineate a nar- 
rative, not without foundation, though 
not literally correct. Alas ! however, 
many scenes yet more distressing the 
historian might delineate, and on them 
the moralist might reflect. 

When 1 wrote this Fragment, I 
intended that it should form one of 
a series of tales, all illustrating the 
evils of war, an idea first suggested to 



Vlll DEDICATION. 

me by Dr. Chalmers: but other pur- 
suits, of a more laborious and less 
pleasing character, have prevented 
me, at present, from prosecuting my 
plan. Several of my friends, who 
have perused the MS. of Bianca, 
have therefore requested me to pub- 
lish it at once. With part of this 
request I comply, and I print it : to 
publish it would be impossible. I 
have consented to print it for my 
friends, but not for the public; and 
to you, as one of my best and most 
valued friends, I present it. To you 
and them I do not fear to commit it, 
as your criticism will be kind, and 



DEDICATION. IX 

your judgment partial. Accept it, 
then, as an indication of my regard, 
and believe me, that I am, 

My dear Cousin, 

Very truly yours, 

J .WILKS, Jun. 

36, New Broad Street, 

20th August, 1823. 



BIANCA. 



BIANCA. 



It was night. The wind gently blew 
o'er the Forest of Soignes. The western 
hemisphere was no longer tinged by the 
parting rays of the golden sun, but 
was illumined by the fires of numerous 
bivouacs. The most profound silence 
reigned. The Anglo-Belgian army, over- 
come by the fatigues of preceding days, 
was wrapt in sleep, though in order of 
battle, on the causeway leading from 
Charleroi to Brussels. It was the 17th of 
June, 1815. The Castle of Hougoumont 



14 BIANCA. 

was occupied by one of their divisions, 
and the Farm of La Haye Sainte was 
the position of one of its brigades. The 
reserve was at Mont St. Jean, where 
the roads from Charleroi and Nivelles to 
Brussels intersect each other. A brigade 
of English cavalry occupied all the open- 
ings on the left, as far as the village of 
Ohain. The French army crossed the 
causeway from Nivelles to Brussels, 
occupied the space between the cause- 
way of Nivelles and Charleroi, and 
extended towards the wood of Hou- 
goumont, and the farm of La Belle 
Alliance. 

The spectacle was magnificent, but it 
was desolating. It inspired awe; but it 
was that of terror, and not of interest. 
It was then that Bianca, partaking of 



BIANCA. 15 

the general consternation; rushed forth 
from her secluded dwelling in Ohain, 

to visit La Haye Sainte.- But who is 

Bianca? and where is she hasting? 

She was the lovely daughter of an 
Italian merchant, and was educated at 
Leghorn, in all the elegancies of a polite 
and fashionable city. She was intelligent 
and virtuous. To M. Dejean she had at- 
tached herself, and to her he was devoted. 
She was sylphic in form. Her eye was 
lively, yet sweetly melancholy. Her pro- 
file was Italian, but it was relieved by her 
auburn tresses; and the glowing ruby of 
her cheek and lip excited love, as it in- 
spired with interest. 

Bereft in early life of maternal guidance 
and protection, and being the only pledge 



16 BIANCA. 

of her parents' loves, in her happiness her 
father was happy, and her will was the 
rule of his conduct. It should not have 
been so. Weakness and indecision are 
as injurious as severity and tyranny. 
But on the mind of Bianca his conduct 
produced no evil. Whilst she was the 
gayest of the gay, her vivacity was well 
principled. Whilst she was affable, she 
was dignified ; and from her presence 
immodesty or sensuality retired con- 
founded. Her attachments were not 
numerous, but they were ardent. She 
was not hasty in her decisions, but she 
was firm in her resolves. Against her 
virtue and consistency even the tongue 
of slander dared not to issue its destruc- 
tive venom. There is a point of character 
attained by some, when envy ceases to 
attempt to injure; when the good love, 



BIANCA. 17 

and even the profligate respect. How 
few arrive at such an elevation! But 
this was the moral dignity of Bianca. 

She was scarcely twenty, when to 
Monsieur Dejean she united herself by 
a tie which is indissoluble. She had 
known him long, and loved him sincerely. 
He was an orphan — a native of Belgium; 
his fortune was adequate, though not ex- 
tensive. He was intelligent. His person 
was manly, and his countenance inter- 
esting: but Bianca did not regard them. 
She judged not of him by his external 
qualifications. The recesses of his soul 
she explored; and amiability, morality, 
sensibility, goodness, and love, she there 
discovered to reside. " To Dejean/' 
she would say, " I became attached in 
proportion as I knew him ; and I am 

B 



18 BIANCA. 

persuaded I shall love him best when my 
intimacy has been most permanent." The 
blossoms of youth may disappear; but 
where love exists, they will be succeeded 
by the fruits of maturity, which, while 
they become mellow with age, will retain 
all their richness. 

From filial affection to her surviving 
parent, and from an anxious wish to smooth 
his passage through a world of sorrow, 
she determined not to forsake him, till 
she had deposited his remains with the 
ashes of her beloved mother. It was 
a prominent stipulation with Dejean, that 
they should not leave Leghorn; and, 
unhesitatingly, he acceded to her wish. 
When affection rules the heart, the head 
and the hand will be subservient to its 
volitions. 



B1ANCA. 19 

Bianca beheld herself the mother of a 
beauteous boy. He resembled Dejean. 
She idolized him. It was the idolatry 
of the heart, of maternal affection, of the 
purest love. She determined herself to 
educate him; and Dejean pictured to his 
mind much felicity from assisting her. 

They agreed on the outline of the plan to 
be pursued. His heart was to be the subject 
of watchfulness rather than his head; and the 
formation of noble, virtuous, and generous 
principles, they determined to prefer to even 
a profundity of intellect, or an originality 
of mind. They rightly felt, that what is 
termed by some persons genius, is the least 
important trait in the human character, and 
that to be good is far better than to be wise. 



The blossom expanded, and it became 
b2 



20 BIANCA. 

a bud. It was nurtured and watched with 
increasing assiduity and interest. The 
dew-drop was removed, as soon as it 
appeared, by the hand of maternal affec- 
tion; and no moth or insect was allowed 
to injure the stem, or collect among the 
leaves of the pretty flow'ret. 

Bianca and Dejean were one in senti- 
ment as in occupation. In the improve- 
ment of their minds, the cultivation of 
the arts, the intercommunication of good 
offices, in deeds of benevolence, in visits 
of mercy, and in filial and parental duties, 
they spent each succeeding day. They 
were never weary. Society for them 
had its charms, and solitude its delights. 
They could mingle with the one, or 
retire into the other, with equal satisfac- 
tion. Their minds were well regulated, 



BIANCA. 21 

their passions disciplined, their feelings 
controlled. 

In undisturbed tranquillity they were 
reposing, when Bianca was suddenly de- 
prived of a father, as good as he was kind. 
The deprivation was, by her, wholly un- 
expected: it was, therefore, additionally 
severe. She wept bitterly. Her tears 
were those of the heart. Her grief was 
that of the soul. " Oh, my lov'd father," 
she exclaimed, as she pressed his icy hand 
to her bosom, " thou art not dead — it 
cannot be. My father! Oh, my father! 
who with parental tenderness didst be- 
hold me when, a smiling infant, my eyes 
first opened on the light of heaven ; — who 
didst watch me when, a babe, I reposed 
unconscious on my mother's bosom; — 
who didst support me when, tottering in 



22 BIANCA. 

childhood, I rambled o'er the mead, and 
plucked the wild flower; — who, when my 
opening mind expanded to receive in- 
struction, didst provide me with tutors; — 
who, when a mother died, didst prove a 
mother and a father both to me; — who, 
with unerring gentle hand, didst lead me 
out of danger, and keep me from it; — ■ 
who didst ever say, Bianca, be happy; — 
who didst give to my Dejean his hand, 
and blest my darling boy! Thou, my 
father, art not dead!" — But his eye was 
fixed, and his lips were sealed, and he 
was no more. His furrowed cheeks she 
bathed with her tears; his generous hand 
she clasped; and vowed eternal gratitude 
to the memory of the departed. 

Dejean sympathized with her. The pul- 
sations of his soul vibrated with her's. 



BIANCA. 23 

He wept and sighed, and together they 
watched his pale corse by the blue lamp 
of midnight. The scene was solemn; and 
the enquiring lispings of their babe, for 
his dear grandpapa, awakened in the 
breasts of his parents yet deeper sorrow. 

But grief will destroy itself. Well it 
is so. If it had not been, Dejean and 
his Bianca would have fallen victims to 
their sorrow. 

To them, Leghorn was ncv longer inter- 
esting. Bianca had there been deprived 
of both her parents. Dejean had lost his 
two best friends; and every building on 
which they gazed, and every scene they 
contemplated, revived their melancholy, 
and impaired their health, For Bianca 
a change of residence was essential ; and 



24 BIANCA. 

as Dejean was the echo of her feelings, 
for him some variety was equally neces- 
sary. 

But to where should they remove? The 
world was before them. Their fortune 
was sufficient, their minds well informed, 
their manners polished and fascinating. 
Any court they might adorn by their pre- 
sence, and to any society they would be a 
great acquisition. 

To England they had many objections ; 
but that which principally operated was 
ignorance of the language. France was 
the seat of feuds and apprehensions; and 
in a country so situated they would not 
therefore permanently reside. They re- 
solved to travel; and as the Ex-Emperor 
was in Elba, and somewhat more of 



BIANCA. 25 

tranquillity appeared to reign in the inte- 
rior of the French empire, they deter- 
mined, towards the close of the year 
1814, on travelling to Paris. 

The season was favourable ; and, in the 
middle of the succeeding January, they 
found themselves in the splendid city 
of Paris. All was novel and imposing. 
Bianca was exhilarated; and Dejean, as 
usual, participated in her felicity. The 
city was not indeed tranquil, but they 
were themselves calm. A storm was evi- 
dently gathering around the political hori- 
zon of that unfortunate country; but, happy 
in themselves, Bianca and Dejean thought 
not of national calamity. They would 
weep bitterly if disease assailed their 
darling boy; but no tear was seen in 
their eye when the Imperial Eagle flew 



26 BIANCA. 

froni steeple to steeple to the towers of 
Notre Dame at Paris. It was not that 
they did not feel, but that their conjugal 
and parental love was so ardent. The 
heart of man cannot be engrossed by the 
love of two classes of objects at the same 
moment. An ardent patriot would forfeit 
his life for his country's welfare, real or 
imagined; but he would not at the same 
moment sacrifice it for his wife and chil- 
dren. 

Bianca and Dejean were received at 
Paris with unusual affection. They excited 
peculiar interest in those whom they visited. 
The susceptibility of the French character 
was called into exercise. In their affec- 
tion all were happy; they breathed the 
sigh of sympathy in unison with that of 
Bianca's; and when her face was bright- 






BIANCA. 27 

ened with a smile, the laughter-loving 
goddess seemed to reign triumphant within 
them. " I love such tenderness of soul," 
said Bianca, " though I compassionate the 
possessors; their lives must be a circle 
of sorrow, for, independent of their indivi- 
dual calamities, by sympathy they make 
the troubles of all men their own." Bianca 
resembled them, though she did not per- 
ceive it, or, perceiving, would not acknow- 
ledge it. Whose eye was moistened with 
a tear, and her's did not sympathize? 
Whose heart was saddened by disappoint- 
ment, and her's did not throb? Whose 
face was sad, and her countenance was not 
sombre? She was all sensibility. 

In domestic and social enjoyments they 
were already happy. No change of scene, 
no alteration of climate, no difference in 



28 BIANCA. 

costume, or national character, diminished 
their felicity. They were happy in them- 
selves ; and as the great orb of day, itself 
effulgence, diffuses its radiant beams over 
a wide creation, so Dejean and Bianca 
imparted to others the happiness which 
themselves enjoyed. They alone are wise 
and happy, who are superior to circum- 
stances, and triumph over opposition. 

But the fatal second of March at length 
arrived. On the preceding day, Napoleon 
had disembarked from Elba, at Cannes, in 
the Gulph of Juan; had already passed 
through Grasse; was advancing to Bar- 
reme ; and would probably soon appear at 
the gates of Paris. 

The city was all consternation — a civil 
war appeared inevitable. Napoleon's one 



BIANCA. 29 

thousand chosen band rapidly increased in 
numbers. Every hour, fresh intelligence of 
devotion to his cause was communicated. 
What could be done? A scene of inde- 
scribable confusion ensued the announce- 
ment of the event. 

The Count D'Artois, the Dukes of 
Orleans and Tarento, quitted Paris. The 
troops were numerous. The city was well 
fortified. The garrisons of all the frontier 
towns were ample ; and those who were 
unacquainted with the character of the 
French people, predicted the capture of 
Napoleon, and the dispersion of his troops. 
But they were mistaken. With a won- 
drous enthusiasm he was received. In 
every stage of his march, fresh triumphs 
attended him. On the 19th, the King 
quitted Paris, and on the 20th, Napoleon 



30 BIANCA. 

entered the Thuilleries, amidst enthusiastic 
acclamations. The tri-coloured cockade 
became universal, and he resumed his 
government. The nation seemed impelled 
by one feeling, but it was momentary. 
Like the Avalaunche, on the Alps, it 
carried all before it, and no time was 
afforded for consideration or conditions. 

Awed by events so imposing and sin- 
gular, Dejean and Bianca felt that they 
were in a new world, and gladly would 
they have retraced their steps to Leghorn. 
But it was impossible, and they did not 
therefore repine. 

Bianca was not however joyous. Her 
sphere of action and acquaintance was 
changed. The domestic circle became 
necessarily political; and the tender sensi- 



BIANCA. 31 

bilities of the heart were exchanged for 
the bolder, but far less pleasing, emotions 
of national passion. 

The feeling of rapture is however gene- 
rally transient, and it is succeeded by calm 
investigation. It was thus at Paris. The 
enthusiasm of the populace was mode- 
rated. Then the presence of Napoleon 
excited less interest. Things appeared 
gradually to be finding their level; the 
enthusiastic became unconcerned, and 
the visionary reasonable. But Paris was 
not the city of Bianca's destination, nor 
France the empire in which she desired 
to remain. From the repose, and not 
the agitation of life, her happiness arose, 
and the felicity of Dejean was only that 
of Bianca. 



32 BIANCA. 

In the Netherlands, not far ftom St. 
Lambert, and about an equal distance 
from Lasne, is the village of Ohain. It 
merits not description; but it was the birth- 
place of Dejean. In the farm of La 
Haye Sainte, situate in the road from 
Charleroi to Brussels, his uncle yet resided. 
And, anxious to explore the scenes where 
he first inhaled the breath of heaven, and 
to tread the meadows where he first 
revelled, in all the innocence of childhood, 
who was dearer to the soul of Bianca than 
herself, she requested Dejean to fulfil his 
original intention, and immediately to 
repair to Ohain. 

Without sheding one tear, they quitted 
Paris. It was the scene of military pre- 
paration, and of the worst passions of 
the human mind. In May they reached 



BIANCA, 33 

Ohaiu. But how imprudent the under- 
taking! Already the allies were in arms. 
In Flanders the French were divided; 
and it might even then have appeared 
possible, that the still seclusion of Ohain 
might be broken by the cannonade of a 
desolating army. 

They visited the uncle of Dejean. He 
was aged and infirm. Many a summer 
sun had risen o'er his head, and many a 
wintry storm had pelted round his dwelling; 
but the name of Dejean made him forget 
his feebleness, and he clasped in his arms 
the orphan of his beloved sister. Bianca 
he received with smiles, and the evening 
of life appeared transformed into the 
morning, by their presence and society. 
The lovely boy, who was the endeared 
pledge of their tender union, was caressed 
c 



34 BIANCA. 

with all the ardor of youth, softened by 
the matured sensibility of age: and the 
name of Camillas was often on his lips, 
and dear to his heart. But circumstances 
obliged them to return to Ohain. 

June soon arrived. The scenery was 
champante and beautiful. The air was 
mild and salubrious. The season was for- 
ward and luxuriant in charms. Dejean 
and Bianca were happy. But the happi- 
ness of man is but transient. The quiet 
enjoyments of Leghorn had been inter- 
rupted by the desolation of death; the 
cheerful and pleasing vivacity of Paris, by 
the noise, and clamor, and sad disorder of 
national confusion and alarm; and even 
the retirements of Ohain, a foreign army 
threatened to invade. Already had the 
aged inhabitant of La Haye Sainte been 



BIANCA. 35 

alarmed by the movements of the Prusso- 
Saxon army to Charleroi. His quiet 
dwelling had echoed with the sound of 
military music, and the trampling of the 
proud steeds. Who could wonder at his 
alarm? Bianca anticipated it. She felt 
that, though many a loud peal of thunder 
had broken o'er his dwelling, and rever- 
berated in the Woods of Hougoumont, 
yet that the passions of national revenge 
and greedy ambition, are far more dan- 
gerous than the tempest which uproots 
the oak of the forest, or than the flood 
which inundates the fruitful valley. De- 
jean participated in all her feelings of 
tender emotion for his aged relative, and 
together they resolved on visiting his abode, 
at least to share with him his sorrows, if 
they could not impart to him confidence. 
But their resolutions were frustrated. 
c2 



36 BIANCA. 

Camillus, who gambolled in the morning 
on the green, swade with all the lively 
unthinking happiness of childhood, in the 
evening was pale and dejected. Over his 
little cot Bianca hung her head— watched 
every movement of her darling boy, and, 
with an angel's tenderness and a mother's 
care, wept at the sufferings which, with all 
her attention, she could not alleviate, and 
sighed to be allowed to bear his sickness 
ten-fold, if by that he could be relieved. 
" Mamma," he would say, " why do you 
weep ?" Poor Bianca could hardly support 
his inquiry; his interesting solicitude over- 
powered her. Dejean was distracted. 
The fever of Camillus increased. His 
little temples throbbed with distraction. 
He became insensible, even to a know- 
ledge of his father. There are moments 
and emotions which cannot be described. 



BIANCA. 37 

The imagination may conceive, and woeful 
experience may realize, but language can- 
not delineate them. 

The morning of the 16th brought to 
Ohain a messenger from La Have Sainte: 
Monsieur, their uncle, desired their attend- 
ance on him. Intelligence had reached 
him, that the French army had entered 
Charleroi. The third Belgian division 
were not far from Quatre Bras. Both 
armies were advancing towards the abode 
of Monsieur, and he was greatly agitated. 
" What can be done?" said Dejean, as he 
entered the room with the affrighted mes- 
senger where Bianca sat. " What can be 
done? I cannot leave my boy, and my 
Bianca too — and yet age and duty and 
feebleness call me hence/' — "Fly," she 
exclaimed. "Fly, my Dejean, to the mise- 
rable man — consign to me this dear pledge 



38 BIANCA. 

of our affection — support the tottering 
limbs of decrepitude — convey your uncle 
to Ohain — and speedily return." Part of 
her directions he obeyed. Would to heaven 
he could have fulfilled them all ! 

" But where is Bianca," said the old 
man, with tremulous anxiety; " and where 
is Camillus ?" as Dejean entered the farm. 

Their absence was a disappointment too 
distressing for his mind, and the cause of 
such absence was even more agonizing. 
He clasped his aged hands, and many a 
tear rolled down his furrowed cheeks, as 
he repeated an Ave Maria for Bianca and 
her boy. 

The night advanced. Dejean could not 
return. Intelligence was brought by a 
shepherd, of the Battles of Ligny and 



BIANCA. 39 

Quatre Bras. Monsieur was additionally 
alarmed. Marshal Blucherwas retreating, 
and hastening to Warres. Dejean was 
additionally agitated. But that was not 
all. The French army were advancing on 
Brussels. Universal devastation was in- 
creasing, and yet Dejean could not forsake 
his uncle, and he would not quit his dwell- 
ing. He determined there to live, or 
there to die. Indeed, any movement 
might have so disorganized his nervous 
system, as to have caused immediate dis- 
solution. 

Bianca expected his return. During 
the long night she alternately attended on 
her babe, or hastily drew back the curtain 
from the window, to see if Dejean was 
approaching, to console her by his tender- 
ness, and soothe her by his sympathy. 



40 BIANCA. 

But the night passed, and Dejean was 
absent. 

In the morning he resolved to visit 
Ohain, but he was summoned, at an early 
hour, to the death-bed of his uncle : on his 
arm he would alone recline, and to him 
alone bequeath his last lingering look on 
this world's miseries. The morning passed 
melancholy on. The old man yet lived, 
and Dejean could not forsake him. His 
servants had fled, and one faithful shepherd 
alone remained with his infirm and de- 
crepid master, and gratitude impelled him 
to acts of kindness, which feelings of self- 
ish interest would never have induced. 

But the suspense of Bianca was anti- 
cipated by Dejean, and from sympathy 
he suffered extremely; and to her he 



BIANCA. 41 

forwarded a letter of inexpressible sweet- 
ness by the shepherd of La Haye Sainte. 
Night advanced. The shepherd did not 
return. The weather became foggy. The 
pale lamp in the chamber of death gra- 
dually waned. The dying groans of the 
old man, with dismal echo, sounded in 
the ears of Dejean. The cannonading of 
the English army, who were retreating 
from Quatre Bras, filled him with horror, 
and again and again he resolved to flee. 
But he could not Respect for age and 
infirmity, and for the ties of relationship, 
united to feelings of pity and affection 
for his uncle, spell-bound him to the cham- 
ber of death. 

At length he heard the loud knocking 
of importunity at the outer door of the 
dwelling; and the vivid flashes from the 



42 BIANCA. 

cannon, announced an approaching army. 
Dejean opened the door. A beautiful 
girl appeared before him, distracted with 
grief, and sinking with fatigue. " Receive 
me, Oh ! receive me," she exclaimed, as 
the door turned reluctantly on its hinges. 
She could say no more. Into the arms of 
Dejean she fell, unconscious who sup- 
ported her, and ignorant of her situation. 
He conveyed her to the solitary chamber 
of his uncle; seated her on the ground; 
hastened to his couch; smoothed his pillow; 
wiped the death-sweat from his forehead ; 
and then turned to the unfortunate female, 
who claimed his compassion. From her 
state of insensibility she recovered. Dejean 
explained to her all that was necessary; 
and, in broken accents of inconsolable an- 
guish, she apprised him, that she was a 
native of Planchenoit — that the French 



BIANCA. 43 

army had that evening arrived before it — 
that her parents were taken prisoners — 
that she was their only child — and that in 
her they centred their hopes and happi- 
ness — that she had sought them in vain — 
and that, as torrents of rain were descend- 
ing, and as the soldiers became additionally 
desperate, she resolved in La Haye 
Sainte to seek a shelter for the night. 
How sad was her reception! How direful 
were the scenes she contemplated ! 

The shepherd of La Haye Sainte, in 
proceeding to Ohain, was detained by an 
English brigade, who required him to 
become their guide ; and the agitation of 
poor Bianca had increased to an alarming 
height, ere the communication reached her. 

He entered her apartment as she was 
agonized with grief over the lifeless corpse 



44 BIANCA. 

of her beautiful Camillus. But for a 
moment she ceased, fixed her eye sternly 
on the shepherd, seized the letter, and 
then perceiving once more the hand writing 
of her beloved Dejean, with frantic plea- 
sure she repeated and repeated, " Then 
he is yet alive — ryes, yet alive !" 

The seal was broken, and the letter 
perused. Her eye could not glance over 
the pages with haste sufficient to gratify her 
anxiety. But all was well. She beheld 
the signature of " her own Dejean," and 
bathed it with her tears. She forgot, in 
the moment of her ecstacy, that her uncle 
was dying — that her babe was dead — and 
that a ferocious and desolating army was 
advancing to La Haye Sainte. But how 
transitory was her satisfaction ! The shep- 
herd communicated that the French had 
advanced on Planchenoit, that he had 



B1ANCA. 45 

been compelled to become the guide of 
an English brigade to Ohain, and that he 
was fearful La Haye Sainte would become 
a scene of bloodshed. 

Scarcely had these sounds reached her 
ears, when martial music and the officers 
of the brigade disturbed this peaceful 
dwelling of wretchedness, only to light it 
up with the worst of passions. 

For a few moments Bianca was over- 
come. Her mind rapidly ran round the 
circle of her griefs with mournfulness, and 
then she exclaimed, " What shall I do? 
My Camillus is not — perhaps, my Dejean 
is not — but that cannot be. My Dejean 
dead! Oh, no, I cannot entertain the 
thought ! I will fly to him ! But I have 
not interred Camillus! What shall I — 



46 BIANCA. 

what can I do?" An officer of the brigade 
entered her apartment — listened to the sad 
relation of her calamities; he could con- 
verse in Italian; he advised her to flee to 
La Haye Sainte, and advance rapidly with 
Dejean to Brussels. The poor shepherd 
offered to become her companion, and to 
carry to the place of her destination the 
lifeless corpse of her child. She hesitated 
not one moment. A few articles of dress, 
and her purse, she wound hastily round, 
and left the village of Ohain. 

It was at this moment that the tale 
commenced. 

The rain descended in torrents — she 
was but thinly clad; and, by the light of 
the distant bivouacs, she resembled the 
fairy sprite, with magic touch, proceeding 



BIANCA. 47 

onwards. They reached Papelote. An 
Anglo-Belgian detachment was stationed 
there, but they were unperceived. The 
poor shepherd became exhausted — Bianca 
advanced before him. The first corps of 
the French Light Cavalry became obvious 
to her; and, as she proceeded in her route, 
she approached it nearer. The peasant 
had somewhat lingered. Bianca paused, 
that he might overtake her, but he came 
not. She retraced her steps to Papelote, 
but she could not discover him. She be- 
came frantic. She sprang forward towards 
the Anglo-Belgian detachment, and, ac- 
costing a lieutenant, she wildly inquired 
for the shepherd, and all that remained of 
her Camillus. He understood her not, 
but conducted her to the camp. A veteran 
soldier, who had long fought the battles of 
his country, became her interpreter. But 



48 BIANCA. 

her researches were unattended with suc- 
cess. She excited the interest of many; 
and they, who were in a few hours to be 
sacrificed on the altar of national ambition, 
could not refuse to weep at the sorrows 
of the wretched Bianca. At length the 
morning dawned. La Haye Sainte she 
perceived in a distance, and thither she 
resolved to hasten, when she had for a 
short time renewed her search for the 
shepherd. 

She wandered to Smouthen, but in vain. 
She travelled in the road towards Planche- 
noit, but in vain. She conversed with a 
cuirassier, explained to him her misfor- 
tunes, and from him she learnt that the 
unfortunate peasant had been taken a 
prisoner, by some scouts belonging to the 
army of the French, and conveyed to 



B1ANCA. 49 

Napoleon, but that the corpse of Camillus 
he had not borne with him. She deter- 
mined on proceeding yet nearer to Planche- 
noit, and the cuirassier accompanied her. 
She suddenly started. Her eye was fixed. 
She perceived the vestment which en- 
closed the corpse of her son. It was 
covered with some reeds; and by no eye 
but her's would it have been discovered. 
She bathed the marble-cold face of her 
infant with her tears — clasped it to her 
bosom — vowed she would carry it to La 
Haye Sainte — thanked the good cuirassier 
for his attention — and, agonized in mind, 
fatigued in body, reflecting on the past 
with horror, and anticipating the future 
with alarm, she crossed a common, which 
divided the road she was then pursuing, 
from that on which she was travelling on 
the preceding night. With La Belle 



50 BIANGA. 

Alliance in view, the French army before 
her, and hostile troops of tens of thou- 
sands surrounding her in every direction, 
she seated herself by the side of a brook, 
and placed the body of Camillus by her 
side. The hour was nine. From the 
French corps, commanded by Count D'Er- 
lon, she was not absent many toises. Her 
situation was direful. In a few short 
hours, perhaps minutes, the grassy bank 
on which she sat, would become the scene 
of action, be bedewed with the blood of 
many a hero ; and if she remained there, 
herself, and the corpse of her babe, would 
be mangled by the trampling of the cavalry. 
She beheld La Haye Sainte — but how 
could she reach it? And if she did attain 
it — what then? Where would be her 
Dejean? Her fears again aroused her, 
and one more effort she determined to 



B1ANCA. 51 

make: it was the effort of despair. She 
gained the causeway from Charleroi to 
Brussels. It was past ten o'clock. The 
army was drawn up. A general silence 
reigned. The sun had risen with splen- 
dour, and the bright arms of the troops 
glittered in his beams ; yet the scene was 
distressing. 

The high road was unoccupied. Bianca 
hoped to proceed rapidly to La Haye 
Sainte; but she was again disappointed. 
She -had not proceeded many paces, when 
she was captured by a battalion of the 2d 
corps of the French army, and conveyed 
to General Bachelu. Her situation be- 
came intolerable. She sighed to exist no 
longer; and if she could have been assured 
that Dejean was not at La Haye Sainte, 
she would have implored the general to 
d2 



52 BIANCA. 

terminate her being. But hope clings to 
us to the last, and generally forsakes us 
not, till sad experience breaks the magic 
spell. 

On the position and circumstances of 
the army, he rapidly asked her many ques- 
tions, but she could answer to only few of 
them ; and he then directed her to leave 
on the field the body of her infant, and to 
fly towards Charleroi, ere it was too late 
to preserve her being. " My being!" she 
replied: "General, I do not regard it. 
Without Dejean I will not, because I 
cannot live; and I implore you, therefore, 
to allow a distressed woman to pursue 
her way." 

He expostulated with her in a few words 
— but it was to no effect. He besought her 



BIANCA. 53 

to rush not with such impetuosity into the 
arms of death — but they were words which 
she could not regard. He consented; and 
she again raising from the ground the body 
of her boy, which was becoming foetid 
and unhealthy, carried it in her arms, and 
hastened to convey it to the place of her 
destination. 

But to return to Dejean, — We left him 
with his expiring relative, and with an 
unfortunate and distracted maiden. She 
had scarcely finished the history of her 
sorrows, when a loud trampling disturbed 
the silence of the night. The faithful dog, 
who guarded the entrance, announced the 
arrival of unpleasant visitors, and seemed 
to implore the presence and attention of 
the inmates. Dejean proceeded to the 
window, and he perceived that an English 



54 BIANCA. 

brigade was already preparing to make the 
farm of La Haye Sainte a scene of desola- 
tion and rapine. He repeated to himself 
the beautiful words of Fenelon, descrip- 
tive of the horrors of war, and then 
rushed to the court-yard. Dejean in- 
treated that the farm might not be occu- 
pied — explained the situation of himself 
and his uncle — but his intreaties were 
useless, his advice disregarded. 

Exhausted by fatigue, they could advance 
no further. As well might he have bade 
the thunder- cloud alter its course, or 
directed the lightning to flash not round 
the dwelling, as to vary the once-formed 
plans of hardy warriors. The sighs of the 
widow, the intreaties of the orphan, and 
the groans of general distress, so often die 
upon their ears, that they cease to operate 



BIANCA. 55 

on their hearts, and they become com- 
paratively indifferent to the miseries which 
surround them. War and despair are terms 
which are nearly synonymous; and they 
who brave the one, will be unaffected by 
the other. He eagerly enquired if Ohain 
was exempt from the incursions of the 
army; they assured him it would not be 
disturbed. The assurance pacified his soul, 
and much allayed the fever of his anxieties. 
Whilst his Bianca was secure, he could not 
despair. He might be unhappy, but could 
scarcely be wretched. Dejean returned 
to the chamber of his uncle. He had 
somewhat raised himself in the bed. His 
eyes glared in the light which the dying 
embers on the hearth emitted. They were 
fixed on a soldier, who, fatigued with the 
march, had contrived alone to enter this 
abode of death. He had opened his wallet, 



56 BIANCA. 

and between the watchfulness of a soldier, 
and the drowsiness of tired nature, he 
finished his repast. 

The interesting girl, who had fled to 
La Haye Sainte, had quitted that wretched 
dwelling in the absence of Dejean, and 
had gone forth, with the virtuous determi- 
nation of returning to the place of her 
birth, and the sepulchre of her fathers. She 
wrote to that effect on a slip of paper, and 
left it for Dejean. 

How long was that night to him ! The 
aged and dying inhabitant of La Haye 
Sainte yet lingered upon earth, and Dejean 
nursed him with the tenderness of filial 
affection. But though his duty compelled 
him to remain, his heart was at Ohain. 
An overruling destiny seemed to prolong 



BIANCA. 57 

his stay, but every moment became more 
painful. The faithful shepherd had not 
returned. No intelligence from Bianca 
had he received. His Camillus — what 
was his situation? Perhaps Ohain had 
become, ere this, a scene of desolation ! 
These, and thoughts yet more agonizing, 
oppressed his heart, and deeply afflicted 
him. 

The rays of the sun again shone on the 
farm of La Haye Sainte. The brigade 
prepared for battle. They informed De- 
jean that it would probably become the 
scene of bloodshed. His soul sickened at 
the thought, and for a few moments his 
mind paused, to determine what line of 
conduct he should pursue. He thought 
of Bianca — of Ohain — of Camillus — of his 
peaceful dwelling: and a flood of tears 



58 BIANCA. 

alone expressed the joy and sorrow, the 
hope and apprehension, which agitated his 
feelings, and oppressed his heart. But 
then he thought of an uncle, who had 
watched over him in infancy, who had 
loved him with the tenderest affection, 
who had welcomed his return to the place 
of his nativity as the brighest omen in his 
long life. He thought of him now dying — 
dragged from his couch by some fiend, in 
human form, mangled with the cut of a 
sabre, or wounded with the shots of an 
enemy. In imagination, he saw him ex- 
pire at the door of his dwelling — his eyes 
start from their swollen sockets with 
misery, calling for Dejean, who was not 
there, and moaning at the contemplation 
of ingratitude so unparalleled. His imagi- 
nation could not even proceed further. 
That was the climax of misery. His heart 



BIANCA. 59 

sickened at such reflection, and he re- 
solved to defend the chamber of his uncle- — 
to wipe the death-sweat from his forehead 
— to close his eyes — to inter his lifeless 
corpse — and then to regain the absent 
joys of Ohain. His determination satis- 
fied his conscience, but it did not his heart. 
But he allowed conscience to triumph, 
though his heart continued to reproach him. 

Dejean remained for some hours by the 
side of his uncle, watching with affec- 
tionate interest the last throes of dissolving 
nature. At length, with inexpressible 
satisfaction, the eyes of the old man were 
fixed upon him — he heaved a deep sigh — 
a big solitary tear rolled down his cheek — 
and he was no more. 

How solemn was that moment! Dejean 
trembled. The withered hand of his uncle 



60 BIANCA. 

he pressed to his heart, and offered up to 
heaven a solemn prayer for the soul of the 
departed. He was absorbed in his sorrows. 
He thought not of danger, of slaughter, of 
destruction, but only of him who was 
gone for ever, and of the destiny which 
awaited him. The clang of the loud 
trumpet at length, however, aroused him. 
He left the chamber, and a spectacle 
presented itself to him, which froze up 
his energies, and even destroyed his 
hopes. But not a moment could be de- 
layed. For his uncle he had -yet one 
more office of affection to perform. It 
was to inter him. But bow could he effect 
it? Every soldier was at his post, and 
none dare forsake it. A sepulchre there 
was no time to prepare ; but to the cellar 
of an outbuilding he resolved to convey 
him. The body he wrapped round with 
a few scattered clothes, and with great 



BIANCA. 61 

difficulty succeeded in conveying it to the 
spot which he had destined as its depo- 
sitory. 

As he descended to the damp and 
gloomy apartment, his energies failed him. 
He trembled, and fell. The cannonade 
which had commenced at the Wood of 
Hougoumont again roused him. He as- 
cended. Danger was on every side. The 
first corps of the French army was rapidly 
advancing towards La Haye Sainte. It 
was noon. Marshal Ney was preparing 
to commence his attack on the farm — to 
dispossess the brave highland soldiers — 
and to occupy La Haye Sainte. Pale 
and motionless, Dejean contemplated the 
scene. Death seemed inevitable — flight 
impossible. Alas! he thought, my situ- 
ation resembles that of thousands — but 



62 BIANCA. 

it is not the less terrific. Hope still, 
however, did not forsake him. Kind and 
faithful, she attended him when all were 
deserters, and even when reason pro- 
nounced her a liar. He resolved to proceed 
through the army towards Ohain. 

Bianca at this moment appeared in sight. 
Summoning up her last energies, she 
rushed forward towards the gateway. She 
was repulsed. A cannonade commenced. 
The attention of Dejean was arrested by 
the appearance of a female, amidst such 
scenes. He thought it was Bianca. De- 
spairing and frantic, he wildly sprang 
forward to rescue her. For a moment she 
perceived him — but the next he had disap- 
peared. What had become of him ? Alas ! 
he was a corpse ! A ball had pierced his 
heart, and he survived not one moment. 



BIANCA. 63 

Who can describe the horrors of that 
moment ? 

Bianca discovered him. The remains 
of her much-loved boy she cast on the 
ground, by his side. 

Her heart could beat no longer. Her 
pale blue eyes ceased to behold the object 
on which they gazed. Her tears refused 
to flow. The laugh of madness closed the 
scene, and the good and beauteous Bianca 
expired. 



FINIS. 



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